Voldemort's Daughter
by Final Valedictory
Summary: In a turn of events, Hermione finds out that she is actually Voldemort's daughter. "She could feel the darkness pulse within her blood; the pull of the ever alluring magic." However, all is not what it seems. (Note* Many of you will question how the Hermione x Tom Riddle pairing will work. Read on to find out.)
1. Beginnings

**This is my first time writing Harry Potter Fanfiction so please feel free to critic, review or even email me! **

**On a different note, this fanfiction will portray violence, abuse, considerably darker themes and etc. Also, it is to be noted that this fanfiction will NOT include incest, although it may seem so and many will question how the Hermione x Tom Riddle pairing will function. Just be patient and read on! This story may be considerably different to what you would have thought it would entail.**

**Chapters will be considerably longer than this first chapter.**

**Thank you for reading this.**

**Final Valedictory**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any of it's characters, settings, story line or plot.

* * *

"We're running out of time Dumbledore!"

Severus paced along the length of Dumbledore's office; uncharacteristically sneering at the Phoenix perched upon Dumbledore's shoulder. Dumbledore eyed the agitated man in front of him and pensively paused before speaking.

"Though that may be Severus, we cannot be entirely sure that it will resurface… so to speak. We have yet to have seen any sign of darker tendencies, let alone a betrayal and -"

"-although your magic may be strong….. _Dumbledore_, the bonds are weakening," said Severus gritting his teeth. "Potions may keep it at hand, but the potency of the potions too, is lessening. It's as if her blood, itself is forming a sort of a resistance."

Dumbledore paused and absently stroked his beard before he spoke again.

"You can be sure that her allegiance lies with us. If her mind begins to stray, her heart will know what is right. I have that much faith in her at least."

"I cannot simply ignore this matter reassured by your false securities—"

"—we must believe, Severus…"

In three strides, Severus was right in front of Dumbledore's desk. He clenched the sides of the mahogany table.

"I have spied for you, lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe."

There was an evident silence in the room.

"_Yet," _said Severus, drawing out the word, "you've kept him literally beside mortal peril all this time." Severus raised his arms up in the air, gesturing, as if desperately trying to make a point. "You've kept him right beside his daughter Dumbledore….. _Voldemort's_ daughter."

Dumbledore opened his mouth as if to say something and closed it again.

"I had known you'd allowed her to come to Hogwarts. But who would've guessed that the _mudblood _Hermione Granger would be _his _daughter." Severus sneered. "That was incredibly smart of you Dumblebore." wry sarcasm was evident in his voice.

"We'll keep him safe Severus—"

"You've said that before….and yet, Lily Evans _dead._"

"You know I am deeply regretful that I could not keep the Potters safe. However this time, you must put your faith elsewhere Severus."

"And in who exactly would that be?"

" ….Hermione Granger."


	2. Inauguration

**Thank you to furface294, Relatela, Hermione Voldemort Riddle, MyCorruptedMind, Kmj, QuirkyPencil, Isabel and AmazingDetective for your reviews.** **I cannot reveal too much at the moment, but rest assured I have most of the plot planned out and your questions will be answered in due time.**

**Hermione will be substantially darker in this fanfiction, as will Tom as that is his natural personality. **

**Unfortunately not much happens in this chapter and it is a rather short one; I am sorry about that and promise that the chapters in succession will be longer. I hope you'll all still all stick with me and read on though!**

**Final Valedictory.**

* * *

Hermione Granger was not weak.

No, she'd never been.

Throughout her years at Hogwarts, she had accomplished much more than the average witch would have in possibly a lifetime.

Hermione lay wide awake in her bed.

The moon glowed dimly, a fluorescent disc suspended in endless darkness, it's light trickling onto the windowsill.

She counted all the times she had risked everything for Harry and Ron.

Hermione remembered her first year. She was simply overjoyed when she learned that she was a witch and immediately took to reading thoroughly through all the books that were listed to be learnt that year not only once, but ….._thrice _and remembering every single detail in them too. However, Hermione also knew she hadn't made the greatest first impression on her fellow students that year, and most had found her to be unfriendly and a know-it-all. That had all changed after she, Harry and Ron had together taken down the mountain troll and on that very day, had forged an everlasting friendship. She smiled at the memory. That was the first.

Her first year wasn't altogether an uneventful one though; she had risked being _expelled _through participating in Harry and Ron's _activities_. That was the second. Back in those days, her education was _everything _to her and her greatest fear had been expulsion from school.

Hermione chuckled at her childhood naivety.

But she had also solved Professor Snape's potion logic puzzle, and played an essential part in stopping Professor Quirrell from obtaining the Philosopher's stone. That was the third.

Hermione slowly rose, fully clothed, collected her bag and slipped out of the dormitory.

She then recalled her second year and shivered. Yes, that was the year she had nearly died after being petrified by the basilisk. Having been gifted a brilliant academic mind, she had been the first to figure out that the Chamber of Secrets had been open, naturally, but this discovery itself was not without consequences. That was the fourth.

Hermione briefly thought of her third and fourth year and by then she had lost count.

She had been essential to Harry's successes right from the beginning.

They would possibly not still be alive had it not been for her.

It was when she thought of fifth year, that she gritted her teeth. She had been refused admittance when the Order of the Phoenix had been reformed. How could they! Naturally she was furious. Harry, of course, had been accepted; it was to be assumed in accordance to his special status as 'the boy who lived' and the wizarding world's only hope at defeating Voldemort. Hermione was fine with that. But when even Ron and Neville were announced as part of the order, but not she, she was shocked to say the least.

Hermione had immediately taken up her case with Dumbledore. Much to her chagrin, she had run right into a meeting between Snape and Dumbledore that day. Hot-faced, and heart full of fury, she'd demanded to be allowed into the Order. Snape had outright refused her, claiming her skills to be lacking, though admitting she had more brains than a hippogriff, but what enraged her even more was that Dumbledore had agreed and said that it "was in her best interest" that she did not participate in the order's activities.

She knew what they were implying. They thought her skills unfit for the battle field.

Well, that was what she assumed anyway.

In a fit of anger at the memory, Hermione kicked the wall of the dark corridor beside her which resulted in a loud thud. Remembering what she was doing, Hermione cast _mufliato _and hastened her pace as she walked through the dark corridor, quickening to the point of running.

Finally Hermione reached the smooth green door which lead to her targeted destination; the girl's lavatory on the second floor.

Try as they might to stop her, she would help them and she _would _be useful; more skilled than they could possibly imagine.

She tapped the porcelain basin with her wand and absently felt the Slytherin carving on the side of the tap, its texture cool against her fingertips.

Hermione licked her slightly parted lips and smirked.

"_Open_."


	3. Enticement

**Sorry I haven't posted in so long. I actually had most of this chapter written months ago, but never got round to posting it. **

**Thanks to all the reviewers, favourites and follows, your support is much appreciated, always makes me smile and gives me incentive to keep writing.**

**Hope you all enjoy reading this chapter.**

**Final Valedictory.**

* * *

Hermione walked into the room and immediately felt relieved, the Chamber of Secrets always did alleviate much of her stress.

The design of the room never failed to intrigue her. Even after she had been down here numerous times, she still marvelled at its structure. Towering pillars entwined with carved wood and intricate stone statues of snakes aligned the hallway of the room, its floor smooth with marble. The room's colour was predominantly green, silver and black, _of course _and a tall Salazar Slytherin stood at the far end of the room. The velocity of the statue was simply amazing, well….. after all, the basilisk had been able to rest within the mouth of it.

_Maybe this was symbolism of Syltherin's ability to speak Parseltongue, _thought Hermione. It was certainly an intriguing thought. However, after all the time she had spent down here, she also knew that everything had a purpose; Slytherin couldn't have indulged in such trivial matters.

Hermione moved toward the statue of Salazar Slytherin, manoeuvring around the carcass of the Basilisk which now lay directly in front of the statue. The Basilisk having been defeated in her Second Year, it was no longer a problem to enter into mouth of the statue. Hermione had soon discovered that the Basilisk itself was not placed without reason. Concealed within the tunnel was another room and as it happened to be, upon discovering the room, Hermione realised that it was the personal library of Salazar Slytherin.

Upon closer inspection, none of the books Hermione had even heard of and that itself was unusual considering the amount of time Hermione had spent reading. Furthermore, most of the books there were not published, which she assumed were the original works. Having been admittedly quite the book worm herself, Hermione had been intrigued to no end, but she resisted, she resisted reading any of the books in the library; she knew that they would be dark after all.

_"Come on Ron, I don't want to stay here too long."_

_Hermione hid behind a pillar, casting a disillusionment charm and mufliato on herself to ensure she remained hidden._

_"Remind me why we're sauntering around the body of Salazar's pet snake again?" Ron asked, scratching his head whilst shifting uncomfortably._

_Harry briskly walked up to the carcass of the basilisk, severed one of it fangs and wrapped it up with a piece of black velvet material._

_"Basilisk venom destroys hocruxes Ron." Harry answered, moving back towards the entrance of the Chamber._

_"…How?"_

_After a moments silence, Harry answered Ron. "I'm not entirely sure either, it just does."_

_"You know…Hermione would know," Ron grumbled, putting his hands in his pockets while shrugging. "If you'd all just let her in… we need her Harry…."_

_Hermione smiled at Ron. He had been on her side the whole time, fighting for her right to be in the Order. She was truly grateful, but at the same time, she also knew that sadly his attempts were all in vain as the rest of the Order was against it. What she could not fathom, was why._

_"Ron, you know why she can't be here."_

_Hermione perked up upon hearing what Harry had just said._

_Harry moved back closer Ron, gripping his shoulder with one arm. "As much as this pains me to say….. she can't be trusted."_

_Hermione was dumbstruck. Had Harry, her best friend which she had risked her life for numerous times, just said that she could not be trusted?_

_"I know this is hard… I mean I still believe that she's well…Hermione, but after what Dumbledore said, as much as I'd like to trust her I think we should still be…cautious?"_

_"You really believe what he said, that she is not 'who she really is'? Come on Harry, I think that old loon has just gone a bit off, sounds more like a riddle than anything."_

_"Dumbledore would never mean any harm to us Ron. As much as I love Hermione, I think we should heed Dumbledore's words and just…keep a distance. I mean, everything will still be the same. The only difference will be that she doesn't participate in the Order's activities."_

_The room was silent before Ron finally spoke in a wearisome voice._

_"…I guess so…"_

_Harry and Ron trudged back to the entrance of the Chamber._

_"Open."_

Hermione shook her head at the painful memory. She had openly wept for hours after they had left, replaying Harry and Ron's conversation over and over in her head.

They did not trust her.

That fact itself hurt Hermione the most. But the thing that confused her was what Dumbledore had said. What did he mean by the fact that she was not who she really was?

She definitely knew who she was. Her name was Hermione Jean Granger. She was born on the 19th of September in 1979. Her parents were both muggles and worked as dentists. And her best friends were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

That was the truth without a doubt.

Hermione shook her head again and thought back to the memory.

Although that night had been a painful one, it had not all together had only negative outcomes. She was now able to enter the Chamber of Secrets freely through mimicking exactly how Harry had said "open" in Parseltongue.

Initially, it had been to seek refuge.

It hadn't been quite so bad when it started. Harry and Ron still acted like they always did around her and she had convinced herself that maybe things would be alright.

Oh how she was wrong.

As time went on, it became evident that they were growing further and further apart. Harry and Ron would make a rather pathetic excuse that they had to be somewhere or do something, and Hermione would go along with it, smile and act convinced, though it was obvious that they were out performing a task for the Order. It didn't help that most of her friends were in the order and their absences were quite noticeable, especially when she would be sitting alone in the Great Hall during meal times. Hell, even _Malfoy _had noticed, and had been bothering her about it with his snide comments.

She had had a number of breakdowns and fits of rage which eventually resulted in her frequenting the Chamber of Secrets as a place of refuge. Something about the place, maybe its smooth marble floors or what not, just seemed to sooth her.

The allure of the place increased after she had found the library. At first she would just look around and explore the expanse of the chamber; but frowned when she realised that although this kept her busy, her mind wandered and ultimately she was unoccupied. She then proceeded to look through the titles and duly noted that most of them were dark, as she had assumed. As much as the knowledge perked her interest, she would _not _read them. She would _not _delve into the dark arts.

However, she found that with each sequential visit, her determination wavered as her mind thirsted.

With nothing to occupy her, her mind had wandered back to her conversation with Dumbledore and Snape.

Why would they think she was weak? Was she weak?

As much as she loved Neville, surely she'd be more competent, yet even he had been invited to the Order.

It enraged her.

Thus, frustrated, once again she had found herself back in the Chamber of Secrets.

She had stood there idly fingering the smooth spines of the various books on the shelf and eyeing the books in front of her. Her determination shattered.

She would help them and she _would _be useful.

_The temptation._

She would be more skilled than they could possibly imagine.

_The knowledge._

Knowledge was still knowledge she had reasoned, whether dark or not and to counter magic of any kind, one had to first fully understand it.

_The power._

Finally letting that last ounce of hesitation dissipate, she had picked up a book, with a comparably more innocent title, and begun reading.

Hermione brought her thoughts back to the present.

She shuffled through the shelves of books in front of her, until she found the book she was looking for. It was a rather large book, bound with black leather and imprinted on the front cover in gold embroidery was two words: _Avada Kedavra._

She heard a rat scurrying across the floor and immediately cast the spell. The jet of green lit hit the creature and immediately it was lifeless; its body limp against the cold marble floor.

Hermione smiled.

The action itself was not unprecedented, Hermione had to admit.

Knowledge could be learned in a more theoretical sense, however, as Hermione had discovered throughout her education and sometimes much to her dismay, remembering the broom incident in her first year, practical application was also required.

At first, she would cringe even at the very thought of performing such a cruel spell, an unforgiveable at that. After all, she had been the advocate for elf rights, and loved animals herself, dearly….

…but it was necessary to make sacrifices.

When she had accepted that thought, and finally mustered the strength to perform the spell on a rat, it had ricocheted off a nearby mirror and almost killed Hermione, herself.

And it was as such that Hermione had gritted her teeth, and practiced the spell a many more times; eventually she had become desensitized and could perform the unforgiveable without hesitation.

The action even had begun to give her a satisfactory feeling; perhaps, a feeling of superiority.

_Of power…_

_"_Practice makes perfect…" she mumbled to herself, smiling.

Hermione stroked the smooth spine of the book, and plopped herself down on one of the more comfortable arm chairs in the room; she eagerly opened the book in her hands, deciding to restart from the beginning.

_Avada Kedavra – Killing Curse_

_The Killing Curse was invented during the early middle ages, primarily as a means of quickly and efficiently slaying one's opponent in a duel. When cast, the spell emits a flash of green light from the caster's wand and immediately kills upon contact. However, the curse is able to be blocked by inanimate objects, and upon contact will produce explosions of varying intensity…_

Hermione awoke with a start, and realised that it was already dawn. All those nights of not sleeping had crept up on her, and without realising she had fallen asleep in the Chamber of Secrets. Panicked, she quickly stowed the book back in it place and left the premises. She rushed through the corridors, all the while praying that nobody was awake this early, especially in her dormitory.

Finally rounding the corner, she reached the painting of the Fat Lady.

"Again you wake me from my sleep! This simply cannot continue, for the past year I have not had a night's sound sleep thanks to _you_! What are you out doing….."

Hermione cringed at the Fat Lady's shrill voice.

"_Heshasasastsihh_."

Still grumbling, the portrait of the Fat Lady reluctantly opened the door to the Gryffindor common room.

Though the painting was not the nicest one in the castle, she was internally grateful that the Fat Lady did not mention her "nightly activities" freely.

Hermione tiptoed into through the common room and into her dormitory.

"Hermione? Is that you? What are you doing so early in the morning?"

Shit.

Hermione froze for a second, her heart pounding fast.

Quickly, she took in a breath, regained composure and in another spilt second she was smiling and walking towards the direction of the voice.

Pavarti Patil.

"Were you sneaking out to meet with a boy?" Pavarti giggled.

Of course. Of course, that's what she would think.

Hermione smirked as she moved into the moonlight. This was going to be easy.

"Pavarti!" Hermione, slapped her playfully. "I was just in the common room, reading."

"Sure you were."

"Well, not all of us are up this early, doing their makeup."

Pavarti blushed and Hermione moved back over to her side of the room .

Hermione unconsciously scratched her wrist on her left arm.

Hermione had not always been good at lying. In fact, she had been probably the worst liar in her entire year. But surprisingly enough, she had perfected the skill within a month. It occurred to her that she had never needed to lie before and the thought saddened her greatly.

Ouch.

Hermione looked down at the source of irritation. Strange. She had treated the scratch on her arm with the correct spells and concoctions, but it seemed to look worse. In fact, it looked like the scratches had multiplied, irritating her skin a sickly red colour and forming a sort of a criss-cross pattern.

Hermione winced as she fingered it.

She would treat it later when she had the time, or perhaps a trip to Madame Pomfrey's –

—_No_, she cut off her thought short.

It was necessary to shy away from unnecessary attention; especially with what she had in plan…


End file.
